


When the Cat had a Catastrophe

by KasumiAFKGod



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M, LadyNoir - Freeform, adrienette - Freeform, divine intervention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-25
Updated: 2016-05-22
Packaged: 2018-05-29 01:38:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6353713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KasumiAFKGod/pseuds/KasumiAFKGod
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Plagg seemed rather calm about the whole ‘the Chat Noir Miraculous isn’t working’ problem. Adrien? Not so much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“What you mean, ‘I can’t?!’” **  
**

“Exactly what I meant; until the ring is repaired, I can’t transform you into Chat Noir.”

Adrien stared at Plagg as if the kwami had struck him with lightning, jade green eyes wide as saucers dropping to the white signet ring in his palms as if needing confirmation a third time. Despite the growing pit of horror in his stomach, the crack running along its centre was very much real and wasn’t going away. A hairline fissure, barely visible, cut diagonally across the circular surface, marring the smooth white metal.

He was hardly aware of his shivering hands until he’d almost dropped the ring, hardly aware of his jellified legs until they gave way beneath him and he was sitting on the edge of his bed. Running a trembling finger along the crack, he took a shuddering breath.

“But it’s not … permanent, is it?” he said, raising his eyes to look at Plagg’s. “You-you can fix this, right?”

Plagg scoffed, flicking his tiny tail. “Me? No, of course I can’t, but it can. Miraculouses didn’t get their name for nothing. The damage wasn’t done through magic; give it a week or two and it can repair itself good as new.”

“A whole week?” Adrien repeated, his tone incredulous as he stared, thunderstruck, at the indifferent Plagg, who was already eyeing a fresh slice of camembert. “You’re telling me that Paris and Ladybug have to do without us for one entire week?”

“Or two,” Plagg reminded, wolfing down the entire slice whole. He pawed at his whiskers, licking at imaginary crumbs before looking Adrien in the eye. “Three if we’re really unlucky. Until then, I suggest you hang tight and be patient. And for heaven’s sake, don’t let that Bourgeois girl anywhere near it again.”

Adrien’s only response was to groan, fingers closing gingerly over his damaged ring as if it would shatter completely if he so much as touched it wrong. Chloé had naturally thrown one of her tantrums earlier when he’d told her that no, he really couldn’t accompany her to see the lavender fields this weekend because of a photoshoot. What he hadn’t expected was for her to be angry enough to slam the door in his face on her way out. As it was, his fingers had been saved from a painful fate between the door and doorjamb by the ring, which had not been as lucky.

“Relax,” said Plagg, rooting around the nightstand drawer for more cheese. “I’m sure Ladybug will do just fine without you for a few akumas.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I’ve been holding onto this for weeks because I SWEAR I find little errors in it every single time I proofread, but I think this is about as good as it will get so I figured I may as well stop fretting and start posting. Since this is a really short prologue, I’m putting up the next chapter in a few hours on my Tumblr (user kasumiafkgod).
> 
> Someone has to stop me from giving overly long titles to my fics. xD


	2. Chapter 2

Going to school over the next few days as if nothing was wrong was agonising. News ran rampant the first time an akuma showed up and only Ladybug was there to defend Paris from someone who was nice a crazed, book-wielding librarian. The chase and resultant fight wore on for much longer than warranted, though she did manage to capture and purify it in the end. 

He wondered what she must have thought of him when he continued to be a no-show, after he’d always so reliably had her back in every situation. She was probably furious at him, as she should be. He sighed, feeling the beginnings of a pout on his face; she was going to kill him when he got back. He could almost hear her now, _‘How could you be so careless? That was very irresponsible of you!’_ **  
**

Resigning himself to a long week ahead, he pushed open the door to his classroom. Waving a greeting at Nino, Adrien settled into his seat and opened his bookbag, rifling through it around a dozing Plagg.

“I wonder what’s up with Chat Noir.”

Adrien froze in the middle of taking out his tablet, listening hard for Alya’s next words.

“Huh?” Marinette’s bleary voice drifted from somewhere above his head, the girl sounding like she’d just been woken from a cat nap.

“Chat Noir,” Alya repeated, and he could almost hear the eyeroll in her tone. “He hasn’t been seen for the past five days. It was unusual enough that he wasn’t spotted on patrols with Ladybug, but when he didn’t show up to fight yesterday’s akuma with her? That was just plain weird.”

Adrien swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat as he straightened, trying his best to act natural when he felt anything but as he fiddled with his stylus.

“Oh, that! I, um, yeah, really weird.”

“Do you think Ladybug knows where he is?” said Alya, and he could hear her drumming her fingernails over the desk. “Maybe something happened to him?”

“What makes you think he’s gone anywhere?” said Marinette, sounding much more awake now. “It might have just been a one time thing.”

“I don’t know, something just feels off. Oh! Do you think I could get her for an interview? She’s so hard to catch, but she has been appearing a lot more often, even without any akumas around.”

The girls immediately cut their conversation short as Ms. Mendeleiev entered the room, wearing her ever-present scowl. Adrien kept his eyes focused forward, staring at the meaningless drivel she scrawled on the blackboard. Adrien had already seen the theories Alya had written about Chat Noir’s disappearance and increased sightings of Ladybug on the Ladyblog, but the reminder sent his heart dropping to the pit of his stomach. It was obvious that Ladybug was looking for Chat Noir. Ladybug was looking for him, but she’d never be able to find him since she wouldn’t know that her crime-fighting partner is in fact Adrien Agreste, who had no way of contacting her as a civilian; let alone get her to believe he was Chat Noir. Not like it mattered if he could, since she’d already stated that their identities were a secret to be protected even from each other.

He sighed, plonking his elbows on the table and propping his head up in his hands as he recalled the live video feed of her battle with the akuma yesterday, helpless to do anything. He should be out there, helping her, defending Paris, protecting her. Instead, he sat and watched, fuming from the safety of his room as she was tossed around by a deranged woman in drab grey and wielding stacks of books in varying sizes. She’d finally been able to capture and purify the akuma, but not before a long and lengthy ordeal that would have been made much shorter if he’d just been there.

Oh, she really was going to kill him.

Sullen gaze falling to his bag, where his ring rested in a discreet jewelry box and hidden between his books, Adrien fretted. It didn’t look anywhere close to being fixed, though Plagg assured him multiple times the ring was well on its way to recovery. A growing pit of dread formed in his stomach nonetheless, festering like a pool of rotten eggs. What if his Miraculous never recovered? What if Plagg was wrong and it remained broken forever?

He quashed down the doubt as soon as it had come, but its ashes remained, smouldering in the back of his mind. An ever-present nagging thorn in his side that settled in and refused to leave.

“Hey dude, you feeling all right? You look really out of it,” whispered Nino, elbowing his ribs and breaking through his ennui. Adrien blinked, gaze snapping up to meet his best friend’s concerned gaze. Giving him a grin that didn’t feel like it reached his eyes, he nodded.

“Yeah, don’t worry, just tired.”

Nino shot him a look that said he didn’t believe him, but ultimately just shrugged and let it go. “Ok, if you say so. It can’t be as tired as Marinette seems to be feeling though.”

Before Adrien could ask him what he meant, Ms. Mendeleiev’s voice cut through the air like a red-hot razor. “Ms. Dupain-Cheng! Would you be so kind as to explain why you are asleep? My class has only been in session for ten minutes!”

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG I am such a dumb-dumb. Please pretend you didn't see this author dumb-dumbing.

Eleven days, eight hours, and forty three minutes since his ring had been broken. Was it a bit obsessive that he was keeping a mental timer and constantly checking? Maybe. But the antsy restlessness plaguing him refused to leave and if he wasn’t doing something, anything, he was going to go crazy. 

Heck, he was already going crazy. He missed the feel of the Parisian night air on his face, the rush of the rooftops zipping away beneath him as he leapt from one to the other, the freedom of going wherever he wanted and saying what he pleased without consequence. But most of all, he missed the sound of her voice. The teasing lilt of her amused tone when he cracked a joke, the crooked smile she gave in answer to something he said.

Her eyes, sparkling like the bluest ocean beneath the midday sun when she turned to look at him.

Plagg’s voice cut through his thoughts, scattering his mind’s image oh his Lady like leaves in the wind. “I told you, you need to relax. You should listen to your friend Nino sometimes, you have to ‘chill out’ a bit more.”

Adrien stared somewhat accusingly at the ring on his nightstand. There was still no visible progress on the supposedly healing crack.

“The Miraculous is broken, Chat Noir is missing in action, Ladybug had to fight five akumas without my help so far and you expect me to ‘chill out’?” Adrien snapped, shooting the cat-like creature a vicious glare.

Plagg shrugged from his perch on Adrien’s pillow choosing instead to inspect his whiskers. “Your panicking isn’t going to make the ring heal faster, so there’s really no point in all your freaking out.”

Adrien scoffed in disgust, launching himself off the bed to stride across the room and drop heavily into his desk chair. Ignoring Plagg’s yelled protests at being bounced into the air, the boy turned on the computer screen, bringing up the Ladyblog.

Alya had just posted a new update.

Scrambling into an upright position, Adrien nearly toppled out of his chair in his eagerness to hit the play button on the video. Alya’s grinning face took up the entire screen, which jostled around as if she were running with the camera—likely her phone.

“Hi, everyone! It’s me, Alya, bringing you the latest news on our favourite superheroes via the Ladyblog! I’ve just spotted Ladybug nearby and if we’re lucky, maybe we can—ah! Ladybug! Ladybug! Can I have a moment, please!”

The video feed blurred around for a moment—Adrien had the impression Alya almost dropped her phone in her excitement—before finally coming to rest on a slender figure clad in red balancing perfectly on a lampost. At Alya’s call, she looked down, and Adrien was graced with the beautiful, quizzical blue eyes of his Lady.

“Is something wrong?” she said, hopping off her perch to drop down onto the ground in front of Alya, giving the camera a close up look at her. Adrien sighed, equal parts happy and morose; this was the closest he had been to her in two weeks.

“Oh, no! Not right now, but I was hoping you could spare a few minutes for a short interview?” said Alya’s disembodied voice.

“Well, I guess I could ….” said Ladybug, trailing off with a reluctant glance up at the sky. Her usual sunny smile was nowhere to be seen, the timbre of her voice sounded more at home in a hospital morgue than with an interview with one of her fans. His Lady was usually openly receptive to interactions with civilians; something about her lackluster reaction to Alya’s enthusiasm was off. Was it because of him?

“Oh, thank you, thank you!” squeed Alya. “I’ll cut right to the chase then; the whole of Paris has noticed Chat Noir’s disappearance and is dying to know where he’s gone. Do you have any details you could spare, or are you just in the dark as we are?”

He saw the surprise registering on her face before she broke into a smile as she chuckled, pigtails bobbing with the slight head motion. But the mirth never reached her eyes. Considering he had always known her with the mask on, he prided himself in being familiar enough to read her expressions as if there never was one. “Oh! Chat. Well …. The truth is, he’s been ….”

“Been what?” Alya prompted gently, when Ladybug fell silent for a beat too long, staring absently into the camera. She blinked, seeming to snap out of some stupor.

“Ah! He’s been, er, sick!”

Adrien blinked. “What?” he said out loud at the same time Alya did, leaning closer to the monitor as if he would be able to hear her better. Ladybug’s amplified her cheery smile up to eleven, and she began resorting to the exaggerated hand gestures she did when she got flustered.

“I know I probably should have said something publicly earlier but he didn’t want everyone to worry. See, Chat’s been a bit under the weather so it’s just me for now. Don’t worry though! I’ve got everything under control and Chat will be back before you know it!”

She was making it up on the spot, but it made sense, Adrien supposed. There was no telling if Hawkmoth could choose to redouble his efforts on getting at least one of their Miraculouses and he might choose to strike now if he learned that Chat Noir was out of action indefinitely. This way, everyone was convinced that he was at least still around and could still be called in a real emergency.

Then he noticed her face.

The skin beneath her mask was a touch too pale, her normally soft lips dry and peeling. Up close, he could now see the bloodshot veins webbing across the whites of her eyes. She looked plain tired. His heart clenched in his chest, a lump growing in his throat. Had she been losing sleep?

“Oh, that sounds unfortunate,” said Alya after a brief pause. “What’s wrong with him?”

“Oh, that! Well, you see, it’s the funniest thing,” Ladybug laughed, waving a hand in a way reminiscent of how she stalled for time. “Part of why he didn’t want anyone to know was because … well, he’s gotten … chicken pox.”

“Chicken pox?” Adrien parroted after Alya’s voice, staring at his Lady smiling at him from his screen. All the diseases, viruses, and illnesses she could have came up with, and it was chicken pox?

“That’s right!” she said brightly. “Chicken pox.”

“Ohh, I completely understand, now. I think I wouldn’t to see anybody either if I were Chat Noir,” said Alya. “When do you expect—”

“I’m really sorry, but that’s all the time I could spare and I have to go,” said Ladybug, already moving away and poising her yoyo to throw.

“Oh, that’s fine! Thank you again, Ladybug! Tell Chat Noir that all of Paris hopes he gets well soon!”

Something flashed in Ladybug’s eyes, her step faltering, but both signs so slight, so unique to her character that he was sure only he would ever notice them. “I-I will, thanks!”

And with a last farewell wave and zip of her yoyo line, she was gone.

Adrien stared listlessly as the video concluded with a excited Alya recapping the interview and bidding her viewers a good day. Heaving a sigh, he leaned back in his chair. The image of her tired eyes plagued him, guilt gnawing at his stomach. It was his fault she was so tired, so worn out. He’d let her down, and she was the one paying for it.

Still, it was nice to hear her voice again, even if it was through a video. Taking a deep breath, Adrine tried to reassure himself—he’d make it up to her once things were back to normal.

Reaching forward, Adrien tapped the replay button.


	4. Chapter 4

“And for the third group; Nino, Adrien, Marinette, and Alya. The four of you are to prepare a presentation on—”

“Excuse me, Miss! But there’s been a mistake, I should be the one in Adrien’s group—”

“Sit down, Miss Bourgeois, I have _not_ made a mistake! My decision is final and I will not tolerate complaints about who is getting grouped with whom. Now, as I was saying—”

“How-how dare you speak to me like that! My father will hear about this—”

Nino shot him a discreet eye roll as he turned his chair around and Adrien couldn’t help a half-hearted shrug and apologetic look as he did the same. Chloé may be his oldest friend, but she could be a handful sometimes.

“So, the four of us! Together. As a group,” pronounced Alya, donning a Cheshire grin as she looked down at them over her interlocked fingers, elbows on the table. “I’m sure we’re all going to have a lot of fun, right, Marinette?”

Nino grunted, crossing his arms and shooting Alya a mock glare. “Yeah, yeah. But maybe more teamwork and less bossing around this time?”

“Hey, that wasn’t nice, ‘Spielberg,’” said Adrien, elbowing his friend in the ribs.

“Oh, come on, dude! Don’t you start with that too.”

“Marinette, weren’t you talking about that fancy flash program the other day? Do you think we could use that for the presentation?”

Glancing back up, Adrien’s eyes settled on Marinette to find that she wasn’t looking at any of them or even seem to be paying any attention to the conversation. All he could see was a pair of crossed arms on the table supporting a head of navy-black hair. The slow rise and fall of her shoulders gave no doubt as to what she was doing.

A slight frown crinkled Alya’s brows, prompting her to tap the absent-minded girl on the shoulder. “Marinette?”

Marinette woke, jumping in her seat as if she’d just been shot. Knees hitting the bottom of her table, she let out a squeak that had several eyes turn their way, but thankfully not Miss Mendeleiev’s who was having a progressively louder shouting match with Chloé.

“Alya!” she squealed, eyes darting around and sending a staring Ivan a nervous smile and wave when he shot her a questioning look. “You scared me half to death!”

“Well, girl, you look like you’re already half-dead anyway. Seriously, you haven’t been looking all that great lately, not to mention you’ve been acting weird all week. Are you okay?”

Now that Alya had brought it out into the open, the realisation hit Adrien that Marinette really did look like she was ill. His trained eye made out the bags under her droopy eyelids, barely concealed by hastily applied make-up. A slight frown furrowed his brows. ‘ _Strange, Marinette doesn’t usually wear make-up_.’

“I’m fine, really,” said Marinette, giving a hollow laugh and waving her hand dismissively. “I’ve just been working on a new project that’s been keeping me up at night, it’s nothing to worry about.”

Alya raised an eyebrow at her, clearly not buying it for one second. “You don’t usually stay up too late on school nights.”

“Oh, um, well, this one is … special!” said Marinette, though it was painfully obvious to everyone present she was floundering. Adrien imagined that her story-fabricating skills were additionally hampered by her sleep-deprivation.

“I don’t know anything about fashion, Marinette, but I think it might be time to take a step back if it’s interfering with your health. Not meaning any offense, but you look like a cat dragged you through a dumpster and back,” said Nino.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Marinette?” Adrien asked, giving her an earnest look. “If the project is really important to you, maybe we could help you with it?”

“N-no! Really, it’s f-f-fine,” she insisted. “I just—”

An explosion outside the school cut her off mid-sentence, and Adrien turned in his seat to see a mushroom cloud of pink glitter engulfing the air just beyond the window. Screams punctuated a resounding cackle.

“I am Glimmerdust, and none shall escape my sparkly oblivion!”

Adrien reached automatically for his right hand, cursing when he felt his bare finger and remembering that his perfectly useless Miraculous was in his bag. Ms. Mendeleiev ceased shouting at Chloé, opting instead to yell at the class. “Everyone, get out immediately! Evacuate the building!”

No one wasted any time in bolting for the door, and within seconds the physics teacher had lost all control of the situation with students pouring into the hallways shouting and clamouring to escape. Jostled by the crowd and separated from Nino, Adrien followed the press of bodies out the school entrance, keeping his bag—with Plagg and his ring still inside—clutched close to his body. He heard a muffled complaint when he squashed the bag to his chest a bit too tightly, but Adrien refused to release his death-hug on it until they were outside and free of the panicked horde.

A flicker of motion caught his eye and he turned, easily spotting Nino waving at him towering over most of the crowd, wading a path through them and dragging Alya by the hand. He met them halfway, the three of them taking refuge by the bushes below the main staircase.

“Is everyone okay?” Adrien asked, shouting to be heard over the din of clashing voices and more explosions, people calling out to each other.

“I would be if our resident reporter didn’t have a death wish!” said Nino, eyes flickering over to Alya. She glared at him, and Adrien idly noticed Nino still hadn’t let go of her hand.

“I’m the writer of the Ladyblog! It’s my duty to—”

“Stay right here, out of the way, and let the heroes do their hero-ing without having you to worry about.”

“But—”

“Where’s Marinette?” Adrien interrupted, looking around to realise that the petite girl was nowhere in sight.

Alya dropped her argument with Nino immediately, alarm shooting across her face as she turned to look at him. “You mean, she’s not with you?”

Adrien shook his head. “No, I thought she was with you.”

“Oh no,” said Nino, looking back at the school. “Do you think she’s still in—”

“Ladybug!”

“Look, it’s Ladybug!”

As one, Adrien, Nino, and Alya turned to see a blur of red drop down to land amongst the crowd, the general panic giving way to a cheer at the sight of their modern hero.

“Everyone, get back!” she said, making shooing motions with her arms. “It’s dangerous here! Go back home to your families!”

She was here. She was here in person, right in front of him, and Adrien temporarily forgot how to breathe.

“My best friend is still in there!” yelled Alya, pointing at the school and standing her ground. Ladybug paused at the sight of them, hurrying over to harry them along.

“Don’t worry, I’ll get her out safely. You guys focus on getting away!”

Adrien almost protested, almost dug in his heels and argued—but he couldn’t, not as he was. Ladybug needed Chat Noir, not Adrien Agreste. Like Nino had said, normal civilians would only get in her way.

“Ladybug’s right,” said Nino on cue, pulling on Alya’s hand. “Marinette’s safe enough with Ladybug around, she’ll be fine.”

“But ….” said Alya, her half-hearted protest dying in her throat as Ladybug met the new akuma in a shower of pink glitter in mid-air.

Adrien swallowed, using every ounce of his willpower to turn his back. “Nino is right, Alya,” he said, his tongue dry. “We shouldn’t be here. Ladybug can do her job better without us around.”

The weight in his bag felt ten times heavier with every step he took away from the fight, as if the ring itself was accusing him of failing his Lady yet again.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So guys, craziest thing happened. I, heh. I, er, forgot.
> 
> I completely forgot about this story.
> 
> I mean! I had it all written and I'd planned to do weekly updates to space it out but then things happened and one thing led to another and I kept having to prioritise other stuff and then this story kind of slipped my mind and I knew I'd finished it so I kind of forgot I hadn't actually finished updating and erm ...
> 
> I'm sorry? TT
> 
> So as apology, here's the rest of the story all in one go. Enjoy!

Adrien had hoped a walk on a cool Sunday afternoon in the park would do him some good. He was gravely mistaken. 

 

He fumed, stalking past the bench and around the fountain as his frustration grew. Three weeks. Plagg had told him it would be three weeks tops. While the crack on the ring had miraculously receded into itself and looked much smaller than it had before, it still had a ways to go to being restored completely.

 

His foot knocked against a pebble in his path and he gave it a savage kick, sending it flying through the air and ricocheting off the tree bark seven feet away.

 

“Whoa, dude. What did a little piece of rock ever do to you?”

 

Adrien glanced up to see Nino approaching, waving one of his giant hands in greeting. Adrien gave a half-hearted harrumph in return, scuffing at the pavement with the heel of his shoe.

 

“Nothing,” he murmured glumly, fingering the cracked ring in his pocket.

 

“Doesn’t sound like nothing to me,” said Nino, falling into step next to him as he boxed his shoulder lightly. “What’s eating you, man? You’re starting to look as sunny as Marinette.”

 

Adrien’s scowl eased, concern for their friend providing a temporary distraction. “I'm glad she got out of that akuma attack safely, but she still looks pretty shaken up about it.”

 

“Yeah, no kidding. Not to mention this super secret ‘project’ of hers that even Alya doesn't know anything of is starting to give her panda eyes.”

 

Adrien’s gaze snapped back up, but a new voice interrupted before he could answer. 

 

“What’s this about Marinette and me?”

 

“Oh, hey, Alya!” greeted Nino, grin breaking so wide across his face that Adrien looked away with an eyeroll. The boy was so obvious. Was Alya blind? 

 

“Hey,” Alya responded, coming to a stop in front of them as she glanced between them furtively. “So, what were you saying about Marinette?” she repeated.

 

Nino shrugged, poking Adrien in the shoulder again. “Nah, I was just telling Mr. Sunshine here that he looks just as cheerful as Marinette’s been looking all this week.”

 

“About that,” Adrien interrupted before his friend could go further, “do you know what’s up with her? She hasn’t been acting like herself lately.”

 

“You noticed too, huh?” said Alya. She bit her lip, eyes dropping to their shoes. “I don’t know either, and it’s starting to make me worry. It’s like she’s avoiding me; she won’t pick up her calls, she tells me she’s busy with a project but when I drop by her house her parents tell me she’s out. She’s up to something, and I’m worried it’s not something good. This sort of behaviour is just … it's not like her.”

 

“It’s probably nothing, don’t worry yourself too much about it,” said Nino, trying to be reassuring. The glare Alya shot him could have vaporised the Eiffel Tower.

 

“She’s my best friend; she's practically my sister. Of course I’m worried!” she snapped, the ferocity in her expression forcing Nino to take a step back. “She’s just been so secretive and illusive all of a sudden and I can’t think of any reasonable explanation and … and ….”

 

Adrien held up a placating hand, trying to calm the girl before she bit Nino’s head off. “Come on, Alya. It’s Marinette we’re talking about. If there’s anyone who can handle themselves, it’s her. She's not class president for nothing.”

 

Alya seemed to want to argue for a minute, before slumping her shoulders and looking back at the ground. “I know, you’re right, Adrien. But still ….”

 

“Look,” said Nino, touching her shoulder with a tentative hand, taking a deep breath and forging on when she didn’t pull away or snap at him. “Her house is across the street. What do you guys say we drop by to visit and see if she’s in?”

 

Adrien blinked, Alya reacting with similar surprise.

 

“You mean, right now?”

 

“What better time?” said Nino, turning Alya around and giving her a light push to prompt her to walk. “We’ll just say we’re going out for ice cream and looking for her to join us.”

 

“I guess,” said Alya, though her tone was laced with doubt. The ring plagued at Adrien’s mind like an ever-present thorn, but he pushed it firmly aside. As much as he didn’t like it, Plagg was right. Worrying about it wasn’t going to make it fix faster. Instead he should be focused on the things he  _ could _ do; like find out why Marinette was looking increasingly like a zombie as the month progressed. She’d looked downright unhealthy yesterday, Alya was right to worry.

 

They reached the bakery within minutes, and the bell was already tinkling their arrival before he’d worked out what they’d say to her. But apparently he didn’t need to because they were greeted by Sabine Dupain-Cheng’s apologetic smile.

 

“Oh, hello again, Alya. No, I’m afraid Marinette isn’t home right now. Do you happen to know where she is?” said the diminutive woman. “And hello to you too, boys. Would you all like some croissants? On the house and fresh out of the oven!”

 

Adrien felt his mouth water at the sight of the tray crowded with the pastries, the scent of fresh baked bread overpowering his senses, but Alya shook her head.

 

“No, thank you, auntie. And, er, I think she said something about being over at, er, Alix’s place. To help her out with … ah, her workout program! Haha, I forgot about that up until now, sorry.”

 

Marinette’s mother chuckled, turning to slot the tray into one of the display shelves. “Oh, that’s all right, Alya. I completely understand. You young people have such tight schedules these days. You ought to relax more—”

 

“Maman! Do you know where—”

 

Four pairs of eyes turned to the stairwell past the doorway to find Marinette herself standing in it, one foot in the bakery and the other still on the last step. She froze like a deer trapped in four sets of headlights, the growing horror dawning on her face could have had him thinking she’d just been caught robbing the bank. Adrien noted her dishevelled hair, looking as if she’d forgotten to brush it before pulling it into its usual pigtails. Her furtive eyes flitted between the three of them, like a cornered criminal looking for an opening to escape, and Adrien noticed again the telltale powder of makeup concealing the darkening shadows on her pallid face.

 

“Oh, hi honey, I didn’t notice you coming home,” Sabine greeted her daughter, seeming oblivious to the tension radiating in waves off of Alya.

 

“Er, but I’ve b-been here this whole time, Maman!” said Marinette, her smile a touch too wide.  _ She _ definitely had noticed Alya’s murderous stare. “I’m just grabbing something to eat and I’ll be on my way!”

 

“Hang on,” said Alya, her tone dangerously calm. “Just where do you think you’re going?”

 

Marinette froze, a croissant halfway to her mouth, eyeing Alya like petrified prey. “Erm, I—”

 

“To Alix’s house, wasn’t that right?” said Sabine cheerfully. “Alya told me about her needing your help with her workout program. You should have told me earlier! I could have made you something to take to her house. Instead of that, how about this—”

 

“T-to Alix’s house. Yeah! A-Alix’s house,” sputtered Marinette, crabwalking around them to reach the front door as if expecting to be pounced on the instant she turned her back. “And there’s no need, Maman, um, I’m … late! I’m already late so I better get going. Haha, don’t want to keep her waiting. Bye, everyone!”

 

And without another word, before anyone could stop her, she darted out the front door and was gone with a final tinkling of the bell.

 

“And off she goes again,” murmured Sabine, chuckling as she turned around and grabbed another tray from the trolley rack. “Since you kids are here, how about some  _ mille-feuille _ ?”


	6. Chapter 6

“You told me it would only take a few weeks!” hissed Adrien, glaring at the kwami resting in the inside pocket of his jacket. 

 

An entire month. Ladybug must be livid with him by now. Maybe she even hated him. She’d become downright manic in hunting him down, her presence on the rooftops of the city almost a permanent fixture by now. A part of him knew she was genuinely worried for him, but that just made the growing chasm of trepidation and guilt in his gut even deeper. He was Chat Noir, her partner. He was supposed to be helping her, not causing her additional stress.

 

“Well, in honest truth, my estimation was a bit optimistic,” said Plagg, refusing to look at him in the eye as they held their whispered conversation in the backseat of the limo. “The last time something like this happened was several centuries ago, you understand, and that time was only a scratch and that took a few days. Or maybe it was a week and a half, I can’t remember.”

 

“You can’t remember your own Miraculous getting broken?” he asked the kwami, unimpressed disbelief colouring his tone.

 

“Hey, you try having to remember every minute detail of your life in the past few thousand years, see if your memory is any better than mine.”

 

“You’re a kwami, aren’t you supposed to be some sort of god? Aren’t gods supposed to be all-good and blessings and divine intervention and all that?”

 

Plagg snorted, an indignant sniff escaping him with a twitch of his whiskers. “That’s a very loose use of the term.”

 

“Yeah, well, whatever. Just so you know, you’re one heck of a filthy liar. Some god you are.”

 

“Your school, young master.”

 

“Thanks, Gorilla!” quipped Adrien out loud, letting his jacket fall back into place and hide Plagg from view before popping open the car door and stepping out. He slammed the door shut a bit harder than warranted, and turned to stomp up the school steps. Incensed, he didn’t turn to greet Chloé when she squealed and waved at him from across the courtyard like he usually would have, instead stalking up the staircase and into class. If his father could see him now, no doubt he’d get a disapproving raise of one eyebrow, but Adrien couldn’t bring himself to care.

 

And as if his superhero life—or lack of it right now—wasn’t worrisome enough, there was Marinette.

 

Over the months he’d known her, the girl had become someone he counted as among his few friends. He knew her bubbly cheer, the sneaky sketches and doodles she made in class when the teacher wasn’t looking, and the confidence holding her head high when she conducted class meetings, reminding him almost of his Lady. 

 

But that Marinette he knew seemed to be missing, diminished and leaving instead a shadow of a person. 

 

She’d been impossible to find after school hours in the past weeks, and what little he saw of her when she did show up at school was not encouraging. The shadows under her bloodshot eyes were growing too dark to be concealed even by makeup and her face looked drained of all colour, taking on an unhealthy looking-pallor. She would make a beeline for her seat and sit down, hardly moving or even speaking, not even to Alya, not even when Chloé made a rude comment about the crinkled state of her jacket.

 

Adrien brought up the idea of approaching her parents for help several times. Her parents were nice, maybe they would understand; but Alya had been quick to shoot him down.

 

“I just … don’t want her to get into too much trouble,” said Alya while she, Nino, and Adrien held an emergency before-class meeting when Marinette still hadn’t shown up. 

 

“I don’t know, at this point I’m beginning to think that any trouble we get Marinette into by going to her parents has to beat whatever she has on her plate right now,” said Nino, gesturing vaguely in the air from his place beside Alya. When the girl had heaved a sigh big enough to blow down a straw house and thrown her glasses on the table, he’d risen from his seat to walk around the desk and pat her back.

 

“I know, I know,” she said, dropping her head into her hands and rubbing at her temples. “I just ….”

 

The pace of Nino’s back pats increased, his best friend looking up to shoot Adrien  a wide-eyed ‘ _ please-help-me _ ’ look.

 

“It’s okay, Alya. We’ll figure something out ourselves without involving them.” ‘ _ Somehow, _ ’ he tacked on mentally, trying his best at a consoling tone. And probably failing. He and Nino simply weren’t equipped for this. “Do you … know if she’s coming to school today?”

 

Alya shook her head, auburn curls bouncing. “No, but she’s probably just late again as always.”

 

Right then, Ms. Bustier entered the room and all conversation ceased as everyone scurried back to their seats. Just as she opened her mouth to speak, he felt the familiar prod of a tiny paw on his chest. Glancing around to make sure no one was paying attention to him, he dipped his head under the pretense of writing something on his tablet.

 

“What?” he said under his breath, low enough so that Nino couldn’t hear.

 

“Get out of class.”

 

Adrien blinked. “Pardon?”

 

“You want ‘divine intervention’? Then get us out of this room, right now.”

 

Adrien huffed, irritated, but deciding to place his blind trust in his kwami as he’d always done. Wiping the annoyance from his face and plastering on a practised smile, he raised a hand.

 

“Miss Bustier, can I be excused to the toilet?”

 

“Yes, Adrien, but make it quick.”

 

“Thank you!” he said, darting out of the room before she could change her mind. Alone in the deserted corridor, Adrien pulled away the right panel of his jacket to send a questioning glance at the tiny black cat.

 

“So what’s this all about?”

 

Instead of answering, Plagg merely narrowed his huge green eyes at him. “Do you trust me?”

 

“What?”

 

“Do you trust me or not?”

 

Adrien sighed, “Look, I’m sorry about what I said earlier. I was being emotional and it was wrong of—”

 

Plagg rolled his eyes. “I’ll just take that as a yes. Shut up and go up the stairs towards the roof.”

 

Adrien paused, confusion flitting across his features. “Okay, but why?” he asked, even as his legs began carrying them to the stairs.

 

“You’ll see.”

 

Adrien ascended the stairs after a quick glance around to make sure no wayward eyes were watching him. Stopping at the fire exit, he spoke up again. 

 

“Plagg, what—”

 

“ _ Hic! _ ”

 

Adrien froze, the words dying in his mouth at the sound of hiccoughs. He and Plagg weren’t the only ones around—there was someone on the other side of the door. He crept closer, straining his ears. His ears picked up the sounds of sniffles and rattling breaths, along with blubbered words made unintelligible through the door and their wet sobs. Shock raced down his spine—that was Marinette’s voice.

 

Before he could think of the consequences of his actions, he reached out and rapped his knuckles on the metal door, regretting the action as soon as the metallic notes rang through the air.

 

There was a sharp intake of breath and a thunk. The sobs ceased.

 

Silence.

 

Drawing a deep breath, heart in his mouth, Adrien swallowed and forged onward.  _ It’s okay, this is Marinette, not an akuma. I got this. I can’t screw this up now _ .

 

“Marinette? Is that you?”

 

Another long silence, so long that he began to wonder if she’d even heard him, then— “A-Adrien? W-what are you d-doing here?”

 

Her scratchy, disembodied voice floated from beyond the door, giving him the impression her throat had been ran through with sandpaper. 

 

“I … I heard you …. Well, you know ….” Adrien scratched the back of his head, heat creeping across his cheeks despite not even being within her sight. He wasn’t used to having to deal with another person crying, and Nino thought he had it bad with Alya. He swallowed again, making another attempt. “Are you … okay?”

 

_ ‘Idiot, people who are okay don’t skip class to hide on the roof of a building and cry _ ,’ he berated himself, resisting the urge to ram his head against the door. ‘ _ I screwed up, I screwed up _ —’

 

She never answered him, the dragging silence becoming increasingly heavy.

 

He tried again. “You know, Marinette, if you need to talk about something that’s bothering you, I’m here.”

 

More silence. Then—

 

“My … my bothers aren’t w-worth your trouble.”

 

Something in the tremor of her voice struck a chord in his heart, catching his breath in his chest.

 

“Marinette,” he said, his voice so soft it would be a wonder if she could hear him through the door, but he somehow knew she could. “Any bother of yours would never be any trouble to me.”

 

He  _ wanted _ to hear her speak, wanted her to trust him enough to confide in him whatever was plaguing her so much to drive her into this state. But she didn’t respond, letting his words hang in the air. Adrien fidgeted, growing more uncomfortable with each passing second. Minutes stretched on for what felt like hours until finally he slumped his shoulders, turning to go back down the stairs and resigning himself to the leaden weight in his chest. Who was he kidding? It wasn’t like he could help anyone, with luck like his.

 

A click and creak of a door opening stopped him in his tracks. He twisted around to see the door slightly ajar, sunlight from outside streaming into the dim stairwell.

  
After a moment’s hesitation, he ascended the stairs again, pushing the door completely open and stepping onto the rooftop.


	7. Chapter 7

Up here, the strong wind bit at his exposed skin and combed its sun-warm fingers through his hair, the brilliant sun unfettered by clouds shining upon the concrete tiles. The school’s rooftop offered a view of the local park, along with a clear vantage point of the Eiffel tower in the distance. He had been here many times, but dressed in black leather with a mask hiding half his face and moonlight in his hair rather than the sun’s glaring rays. Adrien breathed deep, taking in the clean, clear air.

 

Sitting on the ground at his feet, with her back against the wall and hugging her legs, was Marinette. 

 

Navy-black hair lay in a haphazard mess as if she’d been running her fingers through it, loose strands escaping their pigtails to hang over her face or tumble down her back. Her knuckles were white where her hands gripped her knees, bunching the pink fabric of her capris. What was visible of her face was ashen and almost ghostly. The makeup she’d been using to cover up how tired she looked was running, the tears spilling from her puffy, bloodshot eyes washing it away; tears she was discreetly trying to rub off on her knees. 

 

A sharp pang stabbed at his chest; he’d already known she was crying, but to actually see the tears dripping off her chin and the pure misery on her face winded him.

 

“Um, hi,” said Adrien, still whispering. He had a feeling if he spoke any louder, she’d bolt like a frightened doe.

 

Marinette finally looked up at him, runny nose a brilliant red and contrasting against her pasty white skin, offering a watery attempt at a smile. “Hi,” she answered, swiping the back of her hand across her eyes when her knees proved to be too wet to be much use at drying her tears. She swallowed, breath hitching as she looked away. “God, I must look like a real mess. I-I’m sorry you have to see me like this—”

 

“No,” said Adrien firmly, all nervousness evaporating as he crouched down next to her. “You have nothing to be sorry about, Marinette.”

 

A mirthless laugh bubbled from her lips, her eyes dropping to the concrete. “B-but I’ve been treating everyone like strangers and acting so distant, I bet even Alya is mad at me now.”

 

“Alya is not mad, just worried. We all are. We’re your friends, Marinette, we’re here for you. We want to help you, but you have to help us help you.”

 

Marinette buried her face in her knees, shaking it. “It’s not really something anyone can help with,” came her muffled voice through the tear-stained pants and another shuddering breath.

 

“I don’t really believe that.”

 

Her head jerked up, impossibly blue eyes meeting his for one long second. Then she looked away again, and the moment passed. “It’s … it’s really nothing,” she choked out, her voice cracking.

 

“Marinette ...” he said, dropping a tentative hand on her shoulder. She stiffened for a moment, and he almost pulled away—was that too much?—but then she just slumped back against the wall.

 

“It’s just … I’m being stupid.”

 

“You’re not stupid, Marinette,” he said, giving her a smile. “You’re far from stupid. You’re one of the smartest people I know.”

 

She answered with a grateful smile of her own before turning her gaze forward again. Adrien couldn’t help but stare. He’d rarely seen Marinette when she wasn’t a blushing, stuttering bundle of nerves. Sure, he’d seen the class president who carried herself with confidence and poise, the aspiring designer who showed off her works to her best friend with pride in her eyes and bandaids on her fingers, the fearless civilian who would voluntarily stand up against an akuma if it meant the safety of her worst enemy; but to see the same girl drained of that spark hollowed out his insides in a way he couldn’t explain. He clenched his fingers, resisting the urge to comb them through her hair or brush away the unshed tears brimming at her eyes—anything that might make her smile, even just a little. 

 

Marinette was a good person, she should never have to be so sad.

 

Instead, he did what he could, and sat there with her on the gritty concrete of the school rooftop in the mid-morning sun. He wasn’t sure how long they stayed there together—half a minute, five, maybe ten, or was it hours?—before Marinette finally cleared her throat. It was barely audible above the breeze tugging at his hair, but the sound shattered the silence like a stone against a glass wall.

 

“There’s this … friend of mine. He suddenly went missing a month ago, and I haven’t seen him since. He just … disappeared.”

 

“Did … did something happen to him?” asked Adrien, his subdued voice belying the victorious fanfare playing in his head. He tried to keep his elation from showing, focusing instead on what she had to say—she’d finally decided to talk, something even Alya hadn’t been able to accomplish, and he wasn’t about to betray that trust now.

 

“That’s the thing, I haven’t any idea,” said Marinette. “He’s usually such a talker. It’s completely unlike him not to tell me anything, especially something as big as this. I was mad at first, thinking he was ignoring me on purpose, but then he still didn’t show up even when I went looking for him and I thought maybe I made him angry and he didn’t want to talk to me for some reason but it’s been a whole month and now I’m worried something bad might have happened to him and I won’t ever know because … because ….”

 

Her voice cracked as she broke off mid-sentence to sniffle, biting her lip so hard Adrien was afraid she might bleed.

 

“Hey, Marinette,” he murmured, scooting closer to put an arm around her shoulders, only belatedly realising what he was doing. Instead of pulling away, she leaned into his touch as natural as breathing, like a lost child desperately seeking some modicum of comfort. Adapting, he rubbed awkward circles into her shoulder. 

 

“It’s gonna be okay,” he said, adopting a tone one would speak to baby animals for fear of scaring them. “It’s okay, everything’s fine, you have nothing to worry about.”

 

“But—” she hiccoughed, tears starting anew as she swiped them away furiously. “W-what if he’s in trouble and needs me a-and I-I—!”

 

Like everything he had done that day that led him up to that moment, Adrien wasn’t sure what he was doing until he found himself wrapping Marinette in a big hug. One moment he was watching the tears streaming fresh tracks down her cheeks and dripping off her chin, wetting the knees of her pants and coming faster than she could wipe them away; and the next he was aware of his arms surrounding her slight frame, pulling her close. She latched onto him like a drowning girl would clutch at a lifeline, fingers curling into the back of his jacket and pressing her face into his shoulder with a muffled wail. He patted her back as she finally came apart, violent sobs wracking her entire frame. 

 

The Adrien of ten minutes ago would have been deathly uneasy, the Adrien of ten minutes ago would not have known how to handle a keening, weeping Marinette. But any trace of awkwardness was gone, and he was aware only of the girl in front of him as she finally lowered her guard and let go of an entire month of pent up emotions. He was acutely aware of her every breath, her body shaking in his arms, her choked breaths and hiccoughs as he murmured reassuring words. When she gripped him tighter and cried harder, he held her closer, tucking her head under his chin as he rubbed circles into her back and crooned under his breath like he half-remembered his mother used to do.

 

Despite not knowing Marinette well enough to warrant such proximity between them, it felt strangely right. Her presence—weepy as it was—eased him into a relaxed state he only ever achieved as Chat Noir. 

 

He couldn't tell how long they stayed that way, with her crying into his shoulder and him giving her a pillar to hang onto. But eventually, her sobs ceased and she took a shuddering breath, pulling away. He let her go. 

 

She looked up at him, giving one last sniffle before her tear streaked face broke out into wavering smile. “S-sorry about your shirt,” she said, following with a slightly hysterical giggle as she pointed at the damp patch on his shoulder. 

 

Adrien barely glanced at it. “It's fine,” he said, waving a hand dismissively. “It's just a jacket, I've got tons like it at home. Besides, you looked like you needed a good cry.”

 

Pink bloomed across her cheeks and she turned her eyes away, mumbling repeated apologies; the barest tint of the brilliant red he was accustomed to seeing in her face, but he was glad enough for even a shade of the normal Marinette again. 

 

“Everything will work out okay, you'll see,” he told her. It wasn't a false hope, but a fact. He didn't know why, but he felt it was true from the bottom of his heart. 

 

Marinette nodded at the ground as the ghost of a smile touched her face. She wiped away the last of her tears and squared her shoulders. “You're right. He’ll come back, he always does. And when I do see him again, I am going to  _ skin _ that silly kitty in so many ways he’ll remember it for the rest of his life.”

 

Adrian could have sworn his heart stopped at that exact moment.

 

“‘Silly kitty?’” he repeated after her, eyes widening a fraction.

 

She didn't seem to notice the depth of his shock, staring at the sky as the red on her cheeks grew a few shades darker and gave a tentative nod. “It's a … It's a little nickname I gave him. It's dumb, really. He calls me all sorts of silly, punny things and I didn't have a name for him so that was the best I could come up with.” She paused, before shaking her head and laughing again. “But it does suit him! He really is a silly kitty.”

 

There it was again.

 

The name, the timbre of the voice forming those exact words. 

 

He'd heard them countless times before, ingrained in his memory like words carved on stone, but never from the girl with pink capris and bobby pigtails.

 

His thoughts came to a halt.

 

Pigtails like Ladybug’s. 

 

A voice like Ladybug’s. 

 

A nickname that would make sense only for Chat Noir.

 

Adrien squashed the idea before it could fully form in his mind. No, he was being stupid and desperate and his Ladybug-deprived mind was looking for signs when there weren't any. Just what was he expecting—

 

Marinette’s ‘friend’ hadn't contacted her in a month.

 

It had been a full month since he had last transformed into Chat Noir.

 

Marinette had been strangely missing outside of school hours recently. 

 

In the past month, Ladybug had been spotted more often.

 

The longer akuma fights without Chat Noir for help.

 

Marinette’s increasingly obvious fatigue.

 

Like finding the solution to a puzzle, all the stray pieces suddenly clicked together and made sense. Adrien was staggered—floored. The coincidence would be incredible, but it was too big to be just a coincidence.

 

Could it?

 

“D-do you think we should get back t-to class?”

 

Marinette had stood up, dusting off her clothes and extending a hand to help him up. And for a flash of a moment it wasn't a normal girl standing in front of him with swollen eyes and running nose, but his Lady, posture tall and proud, holding her hand out to him with the lopsided smile he loved so much as she chastised him for falling.

 

_ “Aren’t cats supposed to land on all four feet?” _

 

“A-Adrien?”

 

He shook his head, careening back into reality as he met the beautiful blue eyes he saw every day in class and again every night atop the roofs and monuments of Paris. And then he was sure. 

 

Looking back up at her puzzled face, Adrien felt the growing weight he wasn’t aware he’d been carrying for the past four weeks slipping off his shoulders like it was water. Without it, he felt light, free, as if he was walking on air. For an instant, there was no crack in his ring; no akumas and no Hawkmoth and no danger. For an instant, all was right in the world.

 

Heart almost bursting from his chest, his face stretched into a beaming smile; the most genuine, heartfelt one he’d given in a long while. “Yeah, let's go.”

  
He took her hand. 


	8. Chapter 8

Adrien streaked over the rooftop with blinding speed, flying through the night as the stars twinkled above along with the blinking lights of the Eiffel Tower just ahead. The mansion he'd left behind in the distance wasn't home—this was. The feel of leather encasing his skin, air whistling in the ears atop his head and his tail correcting his trajectory as he sprang through the air like an acrobat, landing on all fours before taking off again

 

Excited murmurs reached his ears as the Parisians on the streets below recognised the black blur of his outline, barely visible against the midnight sky, but he paid them no mind as he raced with the wind, the grin on his face almost splitting his face in two.

 

He reached the tower, scaling its many iron beams with graceful ease. Stopping at the second level, he took a moment to catch his breath, surveying the nighttime view of his beautiful city. Her sparkling lights rivalled that of the stars, the serene calm and chilling wind washing over him like the familiar embrace of a friend. Throwing back his head and lifting his arms into the air, he let loose a joyous cheer, revelling in the feel of the wind in his hair. 

 

Then he heard her voice, and his night was made an impossibly thousand times better.

 

“ _ Chat! _ ”

 

Eyes flying open, he twisted around to look directly above and was greeted by the sight of none other than his Lady leaping down successive beams at dangerous speeds, nothing but a red blur as she hurtled towards him. His grin widened as he opened his mouth to return a greeting, only to grunt as she plowed into with an impact like a polka-dotted cannonball, driving the breath from his lungs and knocking them both onto the landing of the second level. He latched onto her as they rolled across the floor, coming to a stop with her on top of him. 

 

“You idiot!” she screamed, actually screamed, blue eyes ablaze with fury as she hit and slapped every inch of him she could reach. His back flat on the ground, her weight settled on his stomach and preventing any escape, he held up his arms to shield his face and laughed even as her fists pounded at his chest, shoulders, and sides. “You stupid,  _ idiotic JERK _ !”

 

“Haha! I don't know what you're—OW! We haven't seen each other in ages and the first thing you do is—ME-OWCH! Pffff! That hurt! Ladybug, stop—AGH! I yield! I yield!”

 

“No! I'm not stopping!” she roared, continuing her relentless assault. He stifled another laugh as he twisted to avoid a right hook to his head. She was showing no signs of relenting, but he’d take a hundred beatings from her if it meant he could stay in this moment forever.

 

“I’m not stopping until-until ….” she trailed off, a half-hearted blow glancing off his forearm. He heard the telltale sniffle before before he lowered his arms in alarm, seeing the tears prickling at the corners of her eyes.

 

“Hey hey,” he shushed, sobering enough to sit up and take hold of her forearms. “It’s o—”

 

“ _ Where _ have you  _ BEEN _ ?” she bellowed, delivering a solid punch to his unprotected solar plexus. He gasped, eyes watering, the blow paralysing him into silence for a moment as she continued her tirade. “I thought you’d left! I thought you weren’t coming back! Thirty-four days, Chat! Thirty-four days without a single word out of you! What if Hawkmoth had captured you or gotten your Miraculous and you couldn’t fight back or what if you were … you were ….”

 

“Hey,” he strained out, raising a hand to the tear at her cheek. “Ladybug—”

 

Another punch, but this one without any heart in it. “And-and I finally see you and you have the audacity to  _ laugh _ as if I’ve been worrying myself to death for  _ nothing _ —”

 

“Hey,” he repeated, catching her wrists in his grip as he pulled on them to make her look him in the eye. “I’m here now, and that’s what matters, right?”

 

She stared back at him, bottom lip trembling, and for a moment he feared she would resort to her legs to continue beating him up. Then there was a blur of red and the next thing he knew her arms were around his neck and pulling him in a hug.

 

“You silly kitty,” she choked, tightening her hold on him as if she was afraid he would disappear. “I thought I was never going to see you again.”

 

“P’Aw, you did miss me,” he said, giving a half-hearted chuckle as he curled his arms around her sides and closed his eyes, leaning into the hug. The warmth she radiated spread across his chest, his heart thumping in response. 

 

“I really was worried! You—”

 

“Shh, it’s okay, My Lady,” he whispered, voice almost stolen away by the wind as he played with one of her ribbons. “I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. Not unless you want me to.”

 

She pulled away and gasped out a laugh, her hands a steadying pressure on his shoulders. “Silly kitty, I’d never want you to leave.”

 

He could have made a joke, maybe another terrible pun that would make her roll her eyes and set everything back to normal again, but Adrien couldn’t help the second thump of his heart at the sincerity ringing in her words.

 

“Never?” he repeated, phrasing the word like a question.

 

“Never,” she assured, her grip on his shoulder tightening as if to emphasise her point. “So don’t ever do that again, ok?”

 

He trilled a laugh, her words bringing to life a warm bubble in his stomach. “Understood, My Lady,” he said, giving her a mock salute. She shook her head and rolled her eyes, smile taking root on her face as she wiped away brimming tears from the corners of her eyes.

 

Much like Marinette had done this afternoon.

 

“Are you going to tell me what happened?” she asked, getting off him and rising to her feet before offering him a hand.

 

Much like Marinette had done.

 

He took it, allowing her to pull him up to his feet.

 

“My Miraculous was … well, there was an accident and it got damaged,” he explained, eyes involuntarily dropping to the ring on his finger. In the corner of his eye, he saw Ladybug—Marinette—do the same.

 

“Damaged? But then how—”

 

“Plagg said to wait, and that it would repair itself so long as the damage wasn’t caused by magic. But it took longer than expected, so I apol—”

 

“Plagg?” questioned Ladybug, tilting her head to the side.

 

Adrien gave her a meaningful look, choosing his next words carefully. “My kwami, he’s what allows me to transform into Chat Noir. I’m guessing there’s one with you too?”

 

Ladybug hesitated before giving a slow nod. “Her name’s Tikki. She’s a real treasure.”

 

“I wish I could say the same about Plagg,” said Adrien, with a crooked smile, casting his mind about for a change of subject to something more normal even as a twinge of regret prickled at his warm bubble. They’d never broached the topic of their kwamis before, and it was dangerously close to the topic of their civilian identities. Even if he had been right, even if Marinette really was Ladybug, he couldn’t jeopardise her wishes based on—

 

“I want to know.”

 

“Huh?” said Adrien, confused at her out-of-the-blue declaration and wondering if he had missed some part of the conversation.

 

“I ….” She swallowed, seeming to brace herself for impact before soldiering on. “I want to know who you are. I want to know the face under that mask. I want to know your name, who you really are, and I think I owe you the same thing too.”

 

“But … but wait,” he said, eyes widening as the full implications of what she was saying sunk in. “I thought you didn’t want us to know because it was too dangerous?”

 

She met his eyes, shaking her head. “And I was wrong, dead wrong. This whole episode could have been avoided if I hadn't been so stubborn. If we’d known each other outside of these suits, you could have simply told me what was going on. I put us in a bad and potentially dangerous position and for that, I’m sorry, Chat. So I want us to know who we are. Anything could happen, and I don’t want a repeat of this month ever again.”

 

He blinked, processing this new information. “Are ... are you sure, My Lady?”

 

She raised her head, offering him a thin smile and a nod. “Yes, but only if you’re okay with it.”

 

A moment passed, then his face broke out into a fiendish grin. “Okay? I’m more than okay with it!”

 

He was finally going to find out, find out for sure. See for his own eyes.

 

No, he already knew. It was just a matter of letting  _ her  _ know.

 

“So, then … I guess we release our transformations?”

 

So sure of herself a mere moment ago, now uncertainty coloured her tone, nervousness etched on her face. Adrien could only smile, taking her hand in his and drawing her close.

 

“Nervous?” he asked her, raising a playfully mocking eyebrow at her. She breathed a laugh, shaking her head.

 

“A little. Stupid, huh?” she said, tossing him a wink.

 

“If it helps, My Lady, would you allow me to go first?”

 

She looked up at him, eyes wide, but the responding squeeze on his hand was answer enough for him.

 

He took a deep breath, feeling himself teetering on the precipice of change as he focused his entire being into staring into the entrancing blue of her eyes. He smiled for her again.

 

“And I think I’ve already said this before,” he told her, heart hammering in his throat. “But you're far from stupid. You’re one of the smartest people I know.”

 

She froze, blue eyes becoming impossibly round as her lips forming his real name in a dazed question, and he released his transformation in a flash of emerald green.

  
He never once let go of her hand.

 

_ FIN _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it, folks. That's the end! Thanks for putting up with all my screw ups, and remember to stay awesome.


End file.
